


Hair Whisperer

by B_Uthoughtwrong



Series: Geralt, The Witcher, In Domestic Bliss... Kinda [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Reader-Insert, Smut, genderless reader, low key smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23568910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Uthoughtwrong/pseuds/B_Uthoughtwrong
Summary: You find joy in fixing hair. Geralt finds fixing his hair unnecessary. Years later, the hair gene is passed onto your daughter.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Series: Geralt, The Witcher, In Domestic Bliss... Kinda [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694326
Comments: 2
Kudos: 79





	1. You and Him

**Author's Note:**

> K. I have a low key hair kink that prolly high key but CAN I BE BLAMED WHEN GERALT LOOKS LIKE THAT uh i dont think so

Geralt sits at the end of his bed. He grunts. You are knelt behind him. You huff and slap his shoulder, “Quit being dramatic. Roach loves it when I comb his mane.”

_“Roach has smoother hair than I.”_

“ _Dear_. I wonder why.”

Your comb struggles to separate the tips of the witcher’s silver hair. You pull it out of the tangles, making him hiss. You huff and pacify the knots with your fingers instead. “When was the last time you combed you hair?”

“When was the last time you shaved your beard?”

You paused and pulled his hair with an annoyed growl.

Geralt digs his fingers into the mattress and groans out, “ _Exactly_.”

You finish untangling. “You could’ve said never, you twat.”

“Mmm, but where’s the fun in that?”

You kneel closer and continue brushing. You rest your bum on your heels. Your thighs are sandwiching Geralt’s side. He moves his arm and places it on top of your ridden up underdress and sneaks his fingers under to your bare skin. You work on his mane until your arm hurts. By the time it’s smooth, Geralt finds himself closing his eyes, basking in your gentle touch.

_I see why Roach enjoys this._

When you finish, you run your hands through his now silky hair. You pull yourself up on your knees and notice Geralt’s serene look. You chuckle and push his hair back to kiss his jaw. He responds with a grunt. Your smile widens, “Like horse, like rider.”

You pull your garment up and manuver yourself to sit of his lap. His hands follow your hips like magnets.

“Have I ever told you that I love men who grow their hair long?”

Geralt moans, “Too bad I’m a witcher.”

You smile softly at him. He knows this though his eyes are closed. You bring your hands to the side of his head and stroke his hair down ‘til his shoulders. He meets your touch and leans into it.

“May I braid your hair?” you ask.

“I love ladies who braid my hair.”

You raises your upper lip upon hearing that. You then dart your tongue out and lick his lips, prompting Geralt to open his eyes. “I am no lady,” you say, lowly jealous. You move off his lap, going back behind him.

You part his hair and begin to braid the sides. Part of you thinks to rip his scalp off, but you think that if you do, you’d’nt be able to experience the pleasure of braiding someone’s hair. You swiftly manage to quickly braid all the way down to his tips.

You can’t help it, “How many ladies have done this to you.”

Gerlat knits his brows and moves his head, only to have you force it back.

“Don’t move!” you threaten. He’s not having it. He rips your arm forward and cradles you on his lap, “None. I don’t comb my hair-- _haven’t._ And you appear nothing like a lady to me.”

You stick your lips out and scrunch your nose. You push him off and grab his shoulder to bring yourself back up. You continue your work. The witcher does not protest.

Soon enough, you’re finished. You tie everything up with garters. After, you jump back onto Geralt’s lap and wake him, grunting. You coo, “Ooooh, this suits you!”

He is uninterested yet he groans in some sort of agreement.

Out of excitement, you hop up and down on his lap, rubbing yourself on him. He is instantly alerted. He heaves deeply and grabs your thighs, pulling you closer to him tightly. You smile ear to ear. Geralt groans your name and kisses your jaw. You purse your lips, pleased.

Geralt is baffled by your next action and the sudden loss of contact. He groans and watches as you run off outside the house. You scream, “Wait there!”

Once you return, Geralt is unamused and ready to attack you. You giddily run to him, holding out a bouquet of different flowers.

Geralt is unimpressed and pissed, but he keeps it to himself when you straddle his lap again.

Raised on your knees, you place flowers all over his hair, by his ears, on the top of his head, all around. Your position causes you to press your chest against his face. Geralt gratefully presses his lips against your ribcage. His hands push you closer to him. You shudder when he tugs at your clothing and works his way to the side. By the time you finish with your flowers, he nibbles on your breast and makes your whimper.

“Witcher,” you hollowly warn. He pulls back and looks at you. The sight of his flower crown excites your stomach. You bring your lips to his. His hands travel from your thigh, up to your bum.

You break you kiss to run off, only to stop and jump to face Geralt and look at your work from a distance. You swoon as you examine him. You walk lowly back to your seat on his thighs, "You rouse me like this."

You climb up him and snake your arms by his shoulders. Your lips meet his. He pulls yout garment off. When you break away, you catch your breath. He pulls you plush against his body. He works his way down your neck, _"Fuck._ If this is all it took--"

Geralt flips you over and presses you against the bed. The action makes the flowers in his hair loosen and fall. You are alerted and quickly push him off to fix it. "You daft oaf, look at what you've done!"

He ignores you and begins to undress. Upon removing his top, he destroys your flower garden.

_"WITCHER!"_

He bellows, "I'll let you put flowers on me everyday if you let me," he darts his hand up into your hair and pulls at the roots, "ravish you."

Well... you don't need any more convincing.


	2. You, Him, and Her

Geralt sits at the end of his bed. He grunts. The tiny body ripping at his scalp yanks his hair out when the brush doesn't give.

From your side on the bed, you call the child's name in protest. She turns to you and heeds your words of correction. "Gently, snowflake. You already got dada's tangles."

Your daughter nods and tip toes to cushion beneath her tiny feet.

The girl has the mind to somehow recreate the look you did before she was even born. No doubt it was all your idea planted into her mind. He didn't hate it, but his daughter still lacked the grace you did. Geralt whines and tilts his head along with the pull of his side.

She stops for a moment. He is relieved. Then, she takes her little hands and brings it far into Geralt's cheeks, clawing it back with her stubbly short fingers.

The witcher knits her brows at what his daughter could possibly hope to accoplish at the act. Her hands reach the silver tips. He digs his fingers in the mattress when she begins pull on his hair from the ends.

"Darling! Darling! Not like that!" you call, grabbing her hands and releasing the tension of her action. Geralt grunts. His sharp eyes catches sight of a stray grey hair is descending in front of him.

You curl back to your place, arm resting on a pilllow, and once again allow the girl to do her wishes.

"Dada, may I have a wibbon?" The girl sticks out her tiny hand to Geralt. He looks at her plump hand and places a delicate lace ribbon on it.

She kisses his cheek and pushed hair off her own face, "Welcome!"

You giggle and grip at your chest. Geralt's lips curve, "You say thank you darling."

"Welcome!"

Geralt tries to his head to her and explain, but she rampages and beats at his shoulder, "No moving, da!"

_This is awfully too familiar._

He sighs and follows her demand. The witcher explains while looking at a wall, "When someone does something for you, you say thank you."

"Welcome!"

"No peach, _thank you_."

"Welcome!" she repeats in the same high pitched manner. He sighs. Perhaps telling her to say _you're welcome_ after _hearing_ thank you wasn't a very clear lesson.

With no skill at tying whatsoever, the child finds herself frustrated over her constantly falling ribbon. She grunts and throws the one end of the it over her father's head. It tickles Geralts nose. With her free hand, she pulls back, bringing the object by the witcher's neck. She then quickly yanks. For what it's worth, the toddler has enough strength to make Geralt choke on his spit.

You perk up at the sound. The girl looses grip of the bow, for alas, his neck is stronger than her arms. It falls the floor. She has no intention to retrieve it.

"Did she just try to choke me?" Geralt ask you without turning.

You chuckle and roll your eyes, "she gets that from you, you know."

"You're saying this as if you've never tried to choke me in bed before."

 _"Geralt."_

He smirks.

She begins to part her father's hair instead, but with less heart. You catch this and so you ask, "Would you like me to teach you how to braid, fawn?"

She turns to you expectantly with wide gleaming eyes. You smile and she reciprocates with an excited grin.

You scoot over to her opposite side, "alright. Here's what we're to do -"

_"When does this get fun for me again?"_

"- you make three parts and bring them close to another."

The ignored Geralt purses his lips. With nothing else to do, he listens in on the directions you have to say. It's nothing new to him, but he is fascinated how you relay directions to a child so efrectively. In contrast, he's made her daughter a living welcome greeting.

You scoot over to your daughter and show her how it's done. Your voice is consistantly calm and certain. Geralt closes his eyes and inhales deeply. At least there was this serenity that came with the process.

He feels a body sit on his lap and a tiny hand slap him awake. Geralt snorts out airily and pulls his head back slightly when he sees how close a face is to him. 

His daughter cups his cheeks then smushes them together. She flattens her small nose of his as well as butts her forehead, "DADA IS BOOTIFUL!"

Geralts ears ring.

You were actually who was sat on Geralt, and your child was sat on you. She pulls away from her father and jumps to your arms, giggling, "While you went nappy, we put flowers on your hair!"

Geralt raises his hands to feel his head, but his daughter slaps his arm before he could, "You'll ruin it, da!!!"

_Yup. Definetely familiar._

You chuckle as the girl climbs to bed to grab the mirror there. She hands it to Geralt and he basks in his glory.

He flattens his lips, "I see you even painted lipstick on me."

The girl jumps to her knees, twists around, and giggles.

"That was my idea," you raise your hand. Geralt growls and grabs you, making you squeal. He forces his lips on your collar bone and even nibbles a bit.

Your daughter springs to life and jumps around, "kissy, kissy, kissy!" She proceeds to then propell herself to Geralt's back. He pulls himself away from you and recieves a kiss to his cheek from soft, small lips.

"Thank you, my dear, for making your old witcher beautiful."

She snuggles her head to his neck and mutters, "welcome!"


End file.
